


Spinning the Plate

by Fabrisse



Category: Chocolat (2000)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28222644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fabrisse/pseuds/Fabrisse
Summary: Over a nightcap one evening, they discuss what Josephine sees in the plate and Vianne makes her favorite.
Relationships: Vianne Rocher and Josephine Muscat
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Spinning the Plate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lenore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lenore/gifts).



In the ideas of the town, it was no longer Armande’s place, it belonged to the Les Trois Demoiselles. 

Madame Clairmont and the mayor had noticed that even though Josephine was running Café Armande, she had not moved back into the upstairs flat. The flat over the chocolatier was definitely too small and someone needed to move into Madame Voizin’s place. 

After a thorough cleaning, Roux helped them paint the front room in a cheery yellow that Anouk had selected. 

It was decided that the larger bedroom would be Anouk’s to give her room to play when the adults were in the front room. The flat over the Chocolatier would be Vianne’s when Roux was in town or when she needed to argue with the north wind, but most of the time, the smaller bedroom would be shared with Josephine. Both of them more comfortable with someone to talk with as they drifted off to sleep.

The flat over the café was let to a young couple -- after Roux, Vianne, and the parish priest had each, in their own way, cleansed it of bad spirits -- who helped at both the café and the chocolatier, him lifting and sorting, her cleaning and serving. 

It felt like a life.

***   
Roux was in town. He’d learned to come just before the north winds were expected, to help Vianne calm her wanderlust by sharing his own life and energy with her. 

It was one of those long evenings in late summer when autumn pokes its head over the fence and says, “soon.”

They had held a small party for the river folk and some of the town folk, and after the last dish had been washed and put away, the last guest had left with a small packet of his or her favorite chocolate, Vianne, Josephine, and Roux sat at the kitchen table sipping blackberry cordial from Armande’s basement stores.

“The plate,” Josephine began. “Why did you never spin the plate with me again?”

“She never spun the plate with me at all.”

“I ended up knowing you both in ways that the plate couldn’t tell me,” Vianne said.

“But how do you do it?” Josephine asked. “How do they do it?”

Viane sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”

Josephine shrugged. “I’ve only seen one thing.”

“And what might that be?” Roux asked.

“Grapes.”

Vianne gave one of her rare full laughs. “Grapes.”

Roux raised his eyebrows. “Grapes.”

“Well what do you see?” Josephine asked him.

Roux thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Shall we go to the shop and find out?”

“Later. Right now, I want to know more about Josephine’s grapes.”

“They’re just grapes,” Josephine said.

“Red, green, black? Large or small? Ripe or unripe or nearly raisins? Sweet or sour? Thick or thin skinned? There are a lot of aspects to grapes.”

“For someone who’s not much on staying in one place, much less on the land, you seem to know a lot about grapes.” Roux said warmly.

Josephine smiled at him. “We go to the markets. We know what we like.”

“And what do you see?” Vianne prompted.

“Ripe black grapes, plump and warm, sweet inside with thick bitter skin, hanging in a perfect bunch with the leaves still on.”

“I was definitely right about the rose creams, but those grapes…” Vianne sipped her cordial and leaned back in her chair.

Vianne finally said, “Do we have a good source for citrus? I know this isn’t a good growing spot, but is there a consistent place to get it?”

Josephine nodded. “The oranges and clementines should begin to arrive from the south in December.”

“How did you get from grapes to citrus?” Roux asked.

Josephine shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s part of Vianne’s genius.”

“She will never be happy with strong liquor, so a cognac filling was out.”

“Aah, I might want to try those when you have them next,” Roux said.

“Also,” Vianne continued, “Coffee would be too bitter. But citrus peel, sugared and spiced then dipped in chocolate, half dark, half milk. Those would give that ripe burst and slight bitterness with just the right tooth.”

Josephine sighed. “Which spices, Vianne?”

“Cardamom for certain. A bit of cinnamon and cassia, not too much. Some long pepper ground in for warmth. And a clove, just one per pound of sugar, so it doesn’t take over the flavor.”

There was a deeper sigh of contentment from Josephine. “We must have those come December. I wouldn’t need much, but a little in the darkest times to bring back the sun.”

“Exactly,” said Vianne. “Do you think this cordial would work in a milk chocolate, Josephine?”

The other woman shook her head. There’s a raspberry downstairs, though. I think that might work with a little bit of rose water.”

“You’re beginning to find the little details which lift the ordinary to the sublime.”

Josephine’s smile widened even further at the praise from Vianne.

***   
When December came, Vianne closed the chocolatier for the day and Josephine left the café’s opening to the Tarbes who lived upstairs. They got into the old deux chevaux truck that came with the café and headed into Bussy le Grand for the big regional market.

They went first to the area for chestnuts and hazelnuts, buying a peck of each from several different farms with a promise to call from the café to let them know whether more would be wanted the following week. 

Their usual purveyors had the common ingredients ready for them and helped load them into the petit-camion in trade for small boxes of chocolates for their families. 

But their prime reason to come themselves, rather than just send the Tarbs or send word by another shop keeper in the town was to sample oranges. Vianne bought some Seville oranges for marmalade from a Spanish purveyor she’d known since childhood and he pointed her to another Spaniard, one who specialized in the thicker skinned -- and much sweeter -- Valencias. Both women tasted his wares, licking their lips and trying to dart their tongues down their chins to capture the sweet juice. 

“Orange givrée,” Josephine said. “These are perfect for orange givrées.”

Vianne said, “Yes.” She used a penknife to peel a bit of zest from her orange and said, “But not quite right for candied orange peel.”

“Ah, you want something slightly thicker, a more robust flavor. I have the most perfect blood oranges this year.” He pulled one from a different box and handed it to Vianne.

She split the flesh, tarter than the Valencia, but lacking any bitterness with Josephine who smiled at the flavor. When she tried a small piece of the zest, Vianne’s smile answered hers. “Will you have more next week? Through the New Year?”

“Barring problems, may the Lord turn a deaf ear, I should have them from now until mid-January though the best flavor will be now through the end of December.”

“Then I shall need…” Vianne worked out the calculations in her head and the purveyor smiled broadly. 

“You shall have them, Madame, the very best each week through New Year’s Eve.”

“The Tarbes pick up for us on Tuesdays and Fridays.” Vianne said, and gave him some milk chocolate with a café au lait filling. “It’s your favorite.”

***   
The afternoon found Viane peeling the blood oranges carefully. Half the flesh would go to Josephine for her orange givrees, and Josephine was passing half the Valencia flesh back to her to make rich orange creams. The blood orange peels belonged to Vianne who put the ones that didn’t look perfect into sugar, to flavor it for later in the year.

Most were perfect, and those were put into a pan with warm simple syrup and a cheesecloth bag with just the right spices. The scent permeated the shop, mixing with the rich scent of her perpetual hot chocolate. People came by for sips of chocolate or small bags of their favorite delicacy, all asking about the deep orange scent that had pulled them by their noses into the shop.

Once the peels had absorbed as much of the flavor as possible, Vianne put them into a low oven on racks, to dry them just a little, while pounding together sugar and spices for strewing. Just before she left the shop, Josephine came in and helped her sugar the peels and put them somewhere safe to do their final drying.

When they arrived home that evening, Anouk had prepared a simple meal of salsify, roast chicken with potatoes, and made a soup to begin from the previous night’s vegetables.

Josephine and Vianne cleaned up, since Anouk had cooked, and headed early to bed after having had an earlier morning that usual.

***   
It took one more day to complete the process, dipping the chocolate twice, and on the third day after their trip to Boissy, everyone who came into the shop had a free sample of spiced, chocolate dipped, candied orange peel.

Over hot cocoa after supper that night, Josephine bit into her first sample and moaned. “You were right. They’re my favorite.”

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.marieclaire.fr/cuisine/oranges-givrees-express,1196843.asp   
> Orange givrée: recipe and photo


End file.
